The Van Pact

10: Valerie

"Anyway," Stevie slid into the booth bench across from me, "Ms. Gabel is making me visit her for a half an hour every Monday to talk about my 'feelings.' All on account of your fibromyalgia. I still can't believe you pulled this off."

I popped open the lid of my milkshake and licked off the whipped cream. I glanced up Stevie. Her left eye squinted and one corner of her mouth curled up disgusted.

"What?" I asked.

"Gas station food," she handed me a napkin and pointed to her right cheek.

"It's perfectly fiiiine," I wiped some whipped cream off of my left cheek. "Speaking of which, I have a feat of courage for you."

"I'm not eating gas station food!" Stevie's hazel eyes bugged.

"Quit wigging out," I said. "You don't have to eat anything."

Stevie looked at me like I stole her playdough.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" she finally asked.

"See when I was mixing up my milkshake at the machine over there, I noticed that they happen to sell sushi at this establishment," I began, "shrimp sushi rolls."

"Gas station shrimp sushi," Stevie winced. "I won't even eat at the Sushi Buffet-"

"I said you didn't have to eat any," I climbed out of the booth, pressed my wrists against the edge of the table and leaned over my milkshake so I could look deep into her terrified eyes. "All you gotta do is ask the guy behind the counter if it's kosher."

"What?" Stevie scrunched up her face. "Obviously it's not kosher, it's shellfish."

"I know that," I said, "and you know that, but does he?" I pointed my head in the direction of the redheaded teenager behind Sheetz's café counter. "Does he know that?"

"I'm not going to do that." Stevie stood up. "I'm clearly not Jewish!" She gestured at the crucifix she always wears around her neck.

"So you got a cross on," I grabbed my milkshake. "It's just a question. There's no such thing as a stupid question."

I walked out of the dining area and toward Stevie's first great feat of courage.

***

We stood in line for about three minutes. The couple in front of us were ordering double bacon cheeseburgers. They slipped their free hands in each other's jeans back pockets. I didn't think people did that outside of 80s films. You learn something new every day.

Meanwhile, Stevie was quivering in her pink Converse. I could see the shrimp sushi package tremble in her little hands. I felt a taaaad guilty when I noticed how nervous she was, but then I thought, nobody should be nervous to ask a question to a salesclerk. If Stevie was nervous to talk to a salesclerk, how would she ever talk to Jesse, boy of her dreams? No, no, this had to be done. Stevie needed to cultivate some damn confidence. For encouragement, I whispered into her ear: "Remember, things are only awkward if you think they are awkward."

"Faulty logic," Stevie rolled her eyes at me. "I have no control over the other person's perception of the situation."

"Just don't make it awkward," I whispered again. "If you have to, keep talking."